


Things You Said

by jawsandbones



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-12 23:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 15,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9095653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawsandbones/pseuds/jawsandbones
Summary: Words spoken between Hawke and Fenris. Imagined conversations that span the length of their friendship and their relationship. The drabbles are not connected unless specified, in order to cover a broader range of scenarios.





	1. things you said at 1 am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. things you said at 1 am  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [Nascence - Austin Wintory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLfj3pAlrs4)

He’s always had a love of the rain. There’s a certain taste of freedom in it, the wet and the cold, that seeps into skin and bone. It’s a feeling all his own, gooseflesh in his skin and a chatter in his teeth. The others are sleeping in their tents while he stands watch. The instant he smelt the coming rain in the air, he volunteered.

He chooses not to stand under the tree or the make shift tent. He stands in the open, his arms outstretched and his eyes closed. He tilts his face to the sky, listens to raindrops falling against the metal of his armor. He almost laughs. Fenris runs a hand through his hair, opens his eyes, and lets the rain drip from his hair down onto his cheeks.

“Fenris.” He turns at the sound of her voice, his name so sweetly spoken, to see Hawke shivering behind him. She’s smiling, hugging her arms around herself. “You’ll catch cold,” she says through chattering teeth. He chuckles under his breath at her sorry state.

She walks through mud and grass, closes the distance between them to stand at his side. She leans her shoulder against his, a futile attempt to steal his warmth. She’s turning her head towards the sky, same as he was, with her eyes closed and lips parted.

He’s never sure. Not about this. Not with her. His hand is tentative, barely moving to touch her back. His fingers track a trail to her waist, his hand settling on her hip, holding her close to him. She smiles, turns her face towards him. Her forehead presses lightly against his temple, a cold nose touches his cheek. She gives him a small kiss as she settles into his embrace, her own arm slipping around his waist.

She raises her free hand above them, fingers reaching for stars. He can feel it stirring in her before he sees it. His markings flare softly, blue light against darkness, warm with her magic. Her fingers move as she smiles brightly. The rain above them slowly turns to snow. White like petals float down, settle on Hawke’s long eyelashes.

She laughs quietly, her head still pressed close to his. “Do you like it?” She asks. He can still hear the rain falling elsewhere, heavy and loud against the leather of the tents, leaves on trees. The snow is softer, and he watches a flake melt on the tip of her nose. Blue eyes sparkle as her hand drops back down to her side.

“I love you,” he tells her. Her smile falters, her eyes widen. She steps in front of him, still close, and he keeps his arm around her, adds the other. Her hands cup his face. There’s still snow on her eyelashes. Her mouth is warmer than the rest of her, lips pressing against his. The snow is turning to rain once again. They don’t seem to notice.


	2. things you said through your teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. things you said through your teeth  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [Never See Your Children Again - Rachel Portman](https://youtu.be/RAd2F8kRwyo)

He distances himself even more after she becomes the Champion. It was harder before. Now, it’s all too easy. Nobility demands her attention. Nobility demands more noble companionship. She cannot have a former slave by her side. She cannot be involved with an elf. He fingers the red cloth around his wrist, thinks of removing it. Would she give up then?

Fenris remembers the way she looked when she gave it to him. The sad smile as she talked softly at him, the way her brows kept trying to come together in a frown. The way she bit her lip when smiling became too hard, the wet edges around her eyes as she made the knot with shaking fingers. ( _It’s a Hawke family tradition. For those we love_.) He had touched her face. She had closed her eyes and sighed.

There’s to be a party. She’s invited all of them. ( _I need someone to save me from all these nobles, Maker_.) Everyone else has happily accepted – the allure of free alcohol too tempting an offer. Fenris spends a few of his saved coins to buy something not battle-worn, not moth-eaten. He stands outside the door, a hand on his wrist.

He’s undone the knot a thousand times. He’s redone the knot a thousand times. Over his gauntlets when they go out. Against bare skin when he’s at home. Red cloth slips from his wrist, and he carefully folds Hawke’s favor before he hides it in his pocket.

He can spot the others, hear Isabela’s laughter. Anders is making his way through the buffet, taking all the food he can manage. Varric is entertaining a group of adoring fans. Hawke and Sebastian are together in a circle with other nobles. She’s smiling, she’s laughing, she’s wearing a dress of red and she’s _beautiful_.

She spots him out of the corner of her eye, turns to him immediately. Her eyes drop from his, to his wrist. Her smile disappears immediately. Her eyes widen, and even from across this crowded room Fenris can feel her pain. She’s standing still, her expression blank, touching her face in surprise a silent tear falls. ( _We can work through this_.)

He’s fleeing again, his glass of wine abandoned on the table, pushing his way through the crowd. He almost makes it. She catches his arm, in the darkened foyer. “Fenris.” He stares at the wall away from her, at the floor. He cannot bear to look at her. “Are you-? Do you not love me anymore?” She says it through clenched teeth. Her voice cracks and breaks.

He squeezes his eyes closed, pulls the favor from his pocket. He lets the red dangle in his hands. Her hand slips from his arm. ( _I am a fool_.) She lets him go, lets him escape into the streets of Hightown. He wonders if he’ll ever see her again. ( _Forgive me_.) He lets out the breath he was holding as he reties the cloth around his wrist. He clutches at it, where it belongs, leans his head against the door of his mansion.


	3. things you said too quietly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. things you said too quietly  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [Infra 6 - Max Richter](https://youtu.be/vwXp-blV1as)

The Arishok had called her worthy. Worthy enough for an honorable death. Hawke accepted the duel like it was a commendation, a compliment, smiled at her companions. She smiled to show her confidence but all Fenris feels now is fear. Hawke was never like the other mages he’d known. She liked the front of the fight too much. Blade meets staff and Hawke struggles to stay standing underneath the weight of the Arishok’s strength. Fenris fights himself to stay rooted to the spot, to not draw his sword, to not join her in this.

She is the dark cloud on the horizon, lightning meeting bone, and storm made flesh. It crackles between her fingers, sparks of blue and hurt, throwing her own strength at the Arishok. He knows her power. He can taste it in the air. It doesn’t stop him from taking a step forward when metal meets flesh, ripping through Hawke’s armor, tearing through flesh. The wound doesn’t bleed. Fenris knows instantly she’s using her force magic to keep it closed, to keep herself from weakening further.

“One day, we shall return,” the Arishok warns as he bleeds out on the steps of the Keep. Like the wave of an ocean, it flows down marble, casting everything in red. Hawke is breathing heavily, leaning on her staff, brow glistening with sweat. She walks away from the dead Qunari, goes to her friends. He expects her to go to him. Instead, she rests her head on Anders’s shoulder.

“I’m running out of mana,” Fenris hears her say. Anders puts his hands on her arms, on her back, holds her tight, and holds her close. Fenris can only watch from the side.

“We need somewhere private,” Anders says while his hands rub her back. Fenris can see her shivering, her teeth chattering with a cold buried deep inside of her. Her hands stay pressed against her belly, throwing all her power and all her energy there.

“My office,” Aveline says instantly, stepping to their side. Together, the three move towards her office, towards a closed door, with Fenris close behind. The moment the sound of the crowd is muffled, alone in the office of the Guard Captain, Hawke falls to her knees. Fenris follows. He sits down behind her, pulls her into his arms. Her head is leaning on his shoulder, her back against his chest. He wraps his arms around her.

Anders kneels down before her, puts a hand over hers. “You need to let go Hawke,” he says, “let me do this.” It’s a few moments of silence before she nods. Her hands move to Fenris’s arms, grip tightly. It’s only then does the wound open truly, begin to bleed. The only sound she makes is a whimper, her feet writhing against the floor. She turns towards Fenris, buries her face in the crook of his neck as Anders’s hands glow with blue light.

“I have you,” Fenris tells her as her hands shake. “Hawke, I have you.” She’s breathing even harder, her cries growing louder, and all Fenris can do is hold her tighter. “Hawke, Hawke, Hawke. Please. I should have – I should have – _Hawke_.” Aveline is standing behind Anders, arms crossed, a hand over her mouth. Anders seems unaware of everything else, staring only at the red.

“F-Fen. If, if – you should _know_.” She’s struggling to say the words, her jaw shaking, a hand reaching up towards his face. “You should know I love you.”

“Hawke you’re going to be alright, it’s going to be fine, please,” he whispers, as the hand that was reaching for him drops to the floor. “Hawke?”


	4. things you said in letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. things you said in letters  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [Marriage Proposal - Ilan Eshkeri](https://youtu.be/wj1BKi57Pdg)

_I’d forgotten how cold it gets in Ferelden. You’d hate it, of course. Still, Skyhold is quite lovely. Varric misses you (he says hello). He doesn’t say it, but I know he misses Kirkwall as much as I do and he’s been away longer. He’s made friends here at least. The Inquisitor is so young, Fen. Reminds me of me when I first got to Kirkwall, before everything went to… well, you know. At least I found you through all of it. Maker, I miss you. It hurts how much I miss you._

Her name is scrawled at the bottom of the page, that swirling Hawke. His fingers trace it, and he smiles at the splotches of ink on the page. She’s always hated writing. Fenris folds her letter carefully, places it on the bedside table. She’s ruined him. He used to be fine being alone. Now the empty space on the bed is agony, the absence of touch an ache. He allows Mr. Barks on the bed, who gratefully drapes himself over Fenris’s legs. It isn’t much, but it will do.

 _We found Stroud – after putting to rest a bunch of undead in Crestwood and killing a dragon. This one could spew lightning! It was amazing Fen. I was amazing. You should have seen it! I tried to bring back the skull for you but it was too big for me to carry._ (Fenris laughs at the messy sketch of a sad-faced Hawke, buried underneath what he thinks is supposed to be a skull.) _We’re off to the Western Approach. I’ll write you as soon as I can._

_There is sand in places there should not be sand. I’ve found so much of it in my smalls. This is the worst Fen. If the sand doesn’t kill me, the heat will. If that doesn’t, maybe the possessed Wardens might. This is getting crazier by the day. I wish you were here. You might be able to make sense of it all. At the very least, I wouldn’t feel so scared._

_We’re attacking Adamant Fortress. The first volleys of the trebuchets have just flown. I’m heading inside with the troops. I’m sending this with the last courier. I love you Fenris. Maker, I love you so much. More than you know. Fenris, I love you. I am always, always, your Hawke._

The parchment is half-scorched, half-ripped, and there’s a pool of ink spilled on the bottom. Her writing is messier than he’s ever known it to be. He clutches at it, stares at the words as he sits down on the couch. He runs a hand through his hair, rubs his face. His hands shake as the parchment slips from his fingers, falls to the floor. He doesn’t receive another letter.

* * *

He’s known to the vendors in Hightown. The baker sets aside fresh rolls from him, and the old woman who sells fruit always has a bag of apples ready. They tell him that someone who helped save doesn’t need to pay. He insists they take his coin anyway. It’s been months since he’s heard any news of the Inquisition. He buys the paper every day, listens to each scrap of gossip, desperate to hear anything of the Champion.

Fenris learns not to expect anything. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t believe it when he first sees it. A head of raven hair. A flash of blue eyes. A familiar face staring at him across a crowd, on the other side of the market. Apples go rolling when he drops the basket, breaks into a run, his arms outstretched towards her.

He gathers her up, arms around her waist, lifting her clear off the ground and spinning her round with him. Hawke is half-laughing, half-crying, her arms just as tight around him. Feet touch ground, and he can still scarcely believe it. He brushes away hair, cups her face in his hands. He crushes his mouth against hers, holds her in shaking arms once again.

“Hawke, I have _missed_ you,” he whispers to her, and he squeezes his eyes closed as they breathe each other in. He listens to her watery laugh, feels her hands bunch at his back, winding into his tunic. “I am – you are – I.” _I am yours_ , he wants to tell her. She already knows, drawing him into another kiss.

“I missed you too,” she says with a smile.


	5. things you didn't say at all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. things you didn't say at all  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [Bright Cloud for Jill - Max Richter](https://youtu.be/TSCfDtYLlvI)

His eyes still follow her. He looks and lingers, wraps a hand around the red on his wrist. He’d left but he’d never leave her. He doesn’t want to talk about it and she doesn’t push. She brings him a book and tells him it’s not too late to learn how to read. She shows up at his mansion the next night with some parchment and a smile. They sit on the floor together as Hawke pulls books and ink from her bag. She begins to write symbols on the parchment and she says they’re letters.

She strings a few of these letters together. She tells him it’s his name. He asks her to show him hers. She smiles, does as he asks, places her name beside his. When she leaves, he keeps that scrap of parchment. His fingers trace the symbols. Fenris. Hawke. He grips the quill like a child, scratches marks into the parchment she left behind. His writing is tilted and uncertain, letters messy and shaking. He still doesn’t understand it.

Everything is a lesson. On the Wounded Coast, she asks him how to spell sand. They speak quietly together, heads side by side, as they read by the dying light of the fire. She moves her fingers under each word as she whispers to him, explains the letters and how things should sound. She marks symbols in the books, on different pages, things to help him. Each night he practices his name. Each night he writes her name beside his. He spells things for her in the Hanged Man.

He spells things for her at the Docks. He takes over the reading at night, at a much slower pace than she, his finger under each word. She smiles and listens, does not interrupt, helps when he asks. He loses his patience often, at words he should know but cannot recognize. She never does. She takes it all in stride, points him down the right path. He can write her name the best, more than anything else.

Hawke sits on his bed with a book on her lap while he sits on the floor and practices his writing. At some point during the evening, her eyes close, her breathing slows. The book has fallen on her, held loosely in her hands. He sits on the edge of the bed, tucks hair behind her ear. There are dark circles under her eyes, a growing fatigue that lingers inside of her.

She never talks about it, what the city means to her. What she does for it. She falls asleep more often when she’s with him. She lets her guard down, allows herself to be vulnerable. She wears no armor, brings no weapons. She brings only books and a smile. He pulls blankets over her shoulders, brushes his hand against her cheek.

She leans her head against his shoulder as he reads. She falls asleep that way, her hand upon his arm, completely relaxed into him. That’s how it starts – his inability to move. Eventually, he simply doesn’t want to. More and more nights are spent sleeping together, curled up in each other and the safety they find there together.

He left her, that night, but here they stay. He cannot say the words, so he writes them instead. He fills the drawer of his nightstand with all the things left unsaid, feelings left unspoken. He’d left but she remains by his side. He’d left but he still loves her, needs her more and more with each day. He keeps the red around his wrist. He writes her name.


	6. things you said under the stars and in the grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. things you said under the stars and in the grass  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [The Last of Us (You and Me) - Gustavo Santaolalla](https://youtu.be/GVhH3KzOyFo)

He finds her sitting on the slopes of Sundermount, away from the safety of the camp. She has her knees tucked to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs. She greets him when she sees him, rests her face on her knees as he takes a seat beside her. “You’ve been avoiding me,” Hawke says softly.

“Yes,” he says, “I thought it kinder.” She laughs without humor, stretches out her legs, lays back into the long grass. Fenris feels the tug of her hand on the back of his tunic, pulling him down with her. She has her hands linked over her stomach, staring at the sky. He can see her through swaying grass, moving in the gentle breeze. She brushes back hair from her face and sighs.

“So why I agree to come with me now?” She rolls over to her side, pushing down the grass in her way to look at him. He looks elsewhere. He finds the dots in the sky, tries to not feel her gaze piercing into him.

“After your mother. I – ah, thought it best,” he says. Her mouth thins into a hard line. She had smiled when he agreed to go to Sundermount with her. When was the last time he had seen her smile? Before Leandra, before Quentin, before he had left her. She sighs, lies back down against the cold earth.

“So. Pity, then.” No, not pity. He would never insult her that way. He had asked her to forgive him, that night, and he knew he had it instantly. He needed time, and she would give all she had. He needed patience, and she would wait. He thought distance would show her there would others more worthy of her affections. He knew the way Anders looked at her, even Sebastian held a fondness.

She never did, but still he stayed away. He knew the pain closeness could cause. He felt it deeply. That longing to reach out and take her hand, to feel her skin against his. To see her smile so at him, and only for him. To go back to those nights they had spent talking, drinking, laughing, waiting for the other. He had torn that, ripped it uncleanly, left it broken. Touching her now was like broken shards of glass trying to fit back together and finding there were pieces still missing.

He knew how strong she was. Despite all of it, still she asked him on jobs. Still she asked him to the Hanged Man. Still she brought him food, books to teach him his letters. So no, not pity. He hears her roll back over, feels her touch upon his face. She turns him to face her, brushes her thumb against his cheekbone. Dark hair falls about her like a halo, and so close, he cannot look anywhere else but at her.

“May I kiss you?” She asks. He reaches up, finds the back of her neck with his hand. Her kiss is soft, warm, and she lingers there. He wishes she would linger longer. She pulls away, slips out of his touch. She presses fingers against her lips.

“I’m sorry,” she says. She pushes herself up, walks back to camp alone.


	7. things you said while we were running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. things you said while we were running  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [Elizabeth - Garry Schyman](https://youtu.be/3aIqOzRRcnQ)  
>  _Chapter is NSFW_

It’s well known that the Champion despises the Deep Roads. Darkspawn took her sister, stole her brother. Below, beneath, buried, a tomb of stone. The lair of her enemy. Hawke hates the Deep Roads. The Chantry won’t look for her there. She runs around shattered stone, staff in hand, away from the snarling hurlocks behind her. She glances over her shoulder, throws a casual fireball. Fenris is at her side, carrying their pack of things. They’ve been doing this dance for weeks.

They fight when they can, run from all that they cannot. Hawke conjures stone from nothing, sends it flying towards a crumbling ceiling. She closes that tunnel, seals them away from the Darkspawn. Lava bubbles, casts light. Fenris drops the bag, goes to her side and takes her shaking hands in his. Her fear is no tale that Varric tells. His hand threads through hair, pulls her close, and he presses a kiss against her forehead.

He cups her face in his hands, her staff clattering to the ground as she reaches for the sword at his back. She pulls it from its sheath, and it takes its place beside her staff. Hands replace sword, warm against him, fisting into his tunic. “You’re safe,” he tells her as she squeezes her eyes closed, allows herself to be taken into a kiss. “I have you.”

It’s not graceful, it’s not kind, it’s not the way they’d have each other if there was time. Rocks can be moved, tunnels opened, dangers they haven’t met yet making themselves known. She finds the laces of his trousers, deftly undoing them, while his hand slips into her pants. She rocks on her feet, sways against him as he presses fingers against her clit, his tongue wet and warm inside her mouth.

His fingers slip into wet folds, press inside her. She wraps her hand around his length, gives him a few hard strokes before he’s pulling down her pants only as far as they need to go. The stone is cold as he sits, but her warmth is more than enough to make up for it. He sits cross-legged, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands on his shoulder.

They hold each other close, her head pressed against his, hands winding in his hair. He breathes against her chest as they move together, his hands moving up and down her back. They rut together like animals, teeth clenched together, struggling not to make any noise. Her movements still when she hears a rock move, clatter against the ground.

He reaches upwards, finds her mouth with his. “Look at me, Hawke,” he tells her, “I’ll keep you safe.” Hands bruise against hips, fingertips digging into shoulders. Her legs shake when he tells her he loves her, he is hers, and he would allow nothing to happen to her. Safe, safe, safe. She clings to him with all her might, collapsing and shaking into him, shuddering when he comes.

It’s not graceful, it’s not kind, it’s not the way they’d have each other if there was time. It’s the way to satisfy their need for each other, to find solace in the darkest of roads. They steal bits of happiness for each other, build walls with each other’s mortar. He sheathes his sword, she takes up her staff. They creep through rock and stone, do not see daylight, but find the light in the other.

“I’m here,” he tells her as he takes her hand, “I’ll not leave you.”


	8. things you said when you were crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8\. things you said when you were crying  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [The Mercy of the Living - Bear McCreary](https://youtu.be/SxDGAojH9Jg)

Hawke doesn’t shout. Hawke doesn’t scream. When the assassin rematerializes and his blades sink into her back, the only sound she makes is a whimper. The blood bubbles at her lips, spills from her nose as her eyes roll. She slumps to the ground limp, lifelessly, like a ragdoll. “No!” he shouts “I will not allow it!” As if it were his choice. He races to her side, leaping at the assassin, sword hammering down to cut, to slice, to kill. The assassin is not like Hawke. The assassin screams.

Fenris drops to her side, hands on her face, “Hawke, _Hawke_.” Her skin is already cold.

“We need to get her to Anders, now,” Aveline says. Many birds have died in the alleyways of Lowtown. He wouldn’t allow this one. She rouses when he lifts her into his arms, her fingers biting into his arm.

“No, no,” the words are slurred, blurring together, “please stop hurting me, you’re _hurting_ me.” She moans, her head lolling against his chest as he races through the streets. Every step, every jostle, brings more pleading, more begging. Her blood is warm on his arm, bleeding a trail behind them. Anders accepts them without a word, leading them to a back room.

“Out,” is all Anders says. Fenris doesn’t move. He’s always loved the way red looked on Hawke. Stitched into her armor, the robes she wore at home, the stain that she wore on her lips, the way she drew it across her face in battle. He hates the way red looks on Hawke. The way it pools beneath her, dribbles from her mouth. Stained on her cheeks from his hands, against pale skin.

Aveline takes him by the arm, begins to pull him from the room. “No!” He protests instantly, pushing back, “no, I have to stay!”

“Oh, when did you become a healer?” Aveline asks as she places hands on his shoulders, pushes back. “All you’ll be doing is getting in the way. Let Anders work.”

“I have to stay,” he pleads, “I have to stay with her.”

“Fenris. I get that you two have something.” _I can’t. I can’t. I’m sorry. I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy, just for a little while. Forgive me_. “But you can’t help her here.” Aveline’s words are kind but insistent, and he allows himself to be dragged away.

He paces in Anders’s clinic, chases away would-be patients with a scowl. Aveline leaves sometime during the night, and he is alone. His feet ache, he cannot bear to sit. It’s almost morning when the door creaks open. Anders carries a lantern in his hands, which highlights the dark circles under his eyes. He looks worn-out, exhausted, and fragile as parchment. He sighs when he sees him. “I’ve done all I can,” he says, “I’m going to bed.”

Fenris slips past him, rushes to her side. She is sleeping, her breathing even, but she is still… even by the single candle that flickers he knows there is still more to be done. He takes the stool, sets it by her bedside. His gauntlets fall heavy to the floor. He takes her hand in his, presses his lips against it. “Hawke, I should have – it should have been me.” He grips her tightly, presses his forehead against her hand. “I love you Hawke, I should have told you sooner. Please don’t leave me. Stay with me,” he weeps. “I am yours.”


	9. things you said when I was crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9\. things you said when I was crying  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [I Was Never going to go to Africa - Abel Korzeniowski](https://youtu.be/dZWne89Xou4)

“You did this to me,” Hawke accuses, hissing at him through clenched teeth. Her head rocks back, leans against the headboard as she groans with another burst of pain, her nails biting into the palm of his hand.

“As I recall,” Fenris says, “this was a mutual decision.” That small bit of snark earns him a burning glare. Fenris chuckles, brushes back sweat soaked locks from her forehead before he plants a kiss. He keeps her gaze focused on him as she shakes through another contraction. Her other hand bites into his shoulder as he brushes a thumb across her cheekbone.

“Almost there Hawke,” Anders tells her. The only one they could trust after Kirkwall, the only one they would want helping with this.

“Fuck you,” Hawke instantly snaps back. And then, “I’m sorry, Anders, Maker’s breath.” Laughter from the bottom of the bed, Anders’s head appearing over the blanket.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” he says. Fenris leans forward, cups her face in his hands. He smiles as he holds her as much as he can. She wraps her arms around him, breathes into the crook of his neck. Her hands fist into his tunic, shudders out a scream. That scream is replaced by the squalling of a baby, Hawke moving into panting breaths of relief.

Anders moves away from the bed, cleaning the babe with a warm cloth. Hawke’s hand lingers in Fenris’s as he stands, moves to the side of the mage. “Congratulations, you’re a father,” Anders says as he passes the small bundle to Fenris. Tiny hands bunched together, pressing against red cheeks, eyes blinking wide. Hawke’s eyes, bright and blue. Ears that end in points.

Fenris can scarcely believe it. He forces himself to breathe, let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He leans his head close to this small fragile thing, makes a halo out of white hair. He reaches forward, and those small hands reach out to take his finger. His heart hammers wildly in his chest, as if it were beating for the first time.

“Let me see,” Hawke says, “let me see our baby.” She reaches out her arms as Fenris takes his place back beside her. He shifts the baby carefully, from his arms to Hawke’s. His legs join hers on the bed as he settles in beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, a kiss to her temple.

“Our daughter,” Fenris says quietly. Hawke touches healthy skin, pops a bubble of spit, and marvels at the wisps of black hair on her head. She looks at Fenris, wide-eyed and unbelieving. His arm is shaking around her, the smile plastered to his face. His daughter’s dimples mirror his.

“She has your ears,” Hawke says as she begins to cry. She had rebuilt her family from nothing, found it in him. Finds it in her.

“The best of both of us,” Fenris says. Hawke laughs through her tears, turns her face towards his for a kiss. “My Hawkes.”


	10. things you said that made me feel like shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. things you said that made me feel like shit  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [Menu - Martin Stig Anderson](https://youtu.be/NrCUis5z0vQ)

There’s a monster at his back, clinging to his soul. It reaches inside of him and twists, pulls the anger through, blinds him with it. Just seeing Hadriana has everything he thought he washed clean come running back. He feels himself drip in the filth of it, stained and tainted. He promises her he’ll let her live. He breaks that promise. There’s satisfaction in it, crushing her heart in his fist. It’s not enough.

“May she rot, and all the other mages with her,” he turns as he says it, doesn’t see the flash of hurt that makes its way across Hawke’s face. Doesn’t see the way she holds her staff tighter, the nervous bite of her bottom lip. The eyes that search the stained and rotting floor, as if they held the answer to what she could say. What she could say to make it better. She settles on not wanting to see that floor at all.

“Maybe we should leave,” she says quietly, reaching for his shoulder. Fenris shrugs away from her touch, creates more distance between them.

“Don’t comfort me.” She holds the staff to her chest, does not intrude in his space. Her face is neutral, quiet, as he speaks. “You saw what was done here. There’s always going to be some reason, some excuse, why mages need to do this. Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her? What does magic touch that it doesn’t spoil?” He spits the words out.

He doesn’t turn away this time. She can’t hide the hurt. It’s plain in the way her face drops, corners of her mouth turning downwards. Her shoulders sag and she can’t look at him. “I didn’t ask to be a mage, Fenris,” she tells him quietly. His vision clears, the anger breaks. He feels regret in its place.

Hawke was the first friend he’d ever made. The only person who sought his smile. She’d brought a happiness he’d never known. Kindness in her touch, in her words, in her laughter. The smallest of touches on his shoulder after a battle, the way she’d look him in the eye as she healed him. She’d fought for his friendship, for his trust. He had broken hers with careless words.

“I… need to go,” he says. She lets him leave without reaching for him, without saying anything. He leaves her standing still as a stone, knuckles white around her staff.


	11. things you said when you were drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11\. things you said when you were drunk  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [Tavern Music – Inon Zur](https://youtu.be/Qdc6nOKZWdw)

Fenris drinks, he does not get drunk. He joins the others at the Hanged Man, holds the cards in his hand, and watches the others. Isabela is on her third mug of ale, Varric on his fourth. Carver is sitting with his arms crossed in the corner, eyes closed and solidly passed out. Hawke is pounding the table hard with her fist as she roars with laughter, Anders chuckling with her at his barely worthy joke. Aveline allows Merrill to lean against her, five mugs shared between them. They’re celebrating buying into the Deep Roads expedition, months of Hawke’s hard earned coin gone in an instant.

Isabela slaps down her cards, accidentally shows her cheat. Varric collapses with his arms on the table, shaking with laughter as she struggles to stuff the cards back in her shirt. Fenris cracks a smile, setting down his winning hand, leaning back in his chair. Across the table, Hawke’s elbow slams against the table as she points at him. “You. Me. Drink. Fight.” She raises her eyebrows up and down excitedly, grinning and nodding.

“You’re already half-drunk,” Fenris tells her. Isabela slings an arm around her shoulders.

“Our Hawke is a dragon. Are you scared to face her?” They both roar together, their fists shooting up into the air. Fenris laughs, shakes his head. Isabela immediately flags down Norah, and it begins. Hawke matches him mug for mug, her cheeks growing redder with each gulp. He feels himself growing lightheaded, and the laughter comes easily.

“I’m going to win,” Hawke says, flexing her arms, standing with one foot on the table. She thinks for a moment, holds up a hand, then turns and pukes. Across the Hanged Man, Norah throws up her arms and yells out her displeasure. It’s agreed that Fenris would help her home. It takes a few tries to get her out the door, Fenris practically steering her.

She breathes in the night air, sighs it out with a grin. “I,” she says in a sing-song tone, twirling around before settling her arms on his shoulders, “think you are attractive.” Fenris laughs, wraps an arm around her waist.

“I think you are attractive as well, Hawke.”

“Awe, Fenris!” She stops his attempt to walk her home to hug him tightly. She downright giggles, nuzzles against him. She sways apart from him, presses his cheeks between her hands.

“When I get back from the Deep Roads, I’m’nna marry you.” She rubs his cheeks hard, before swaying down the street with a song in her throat, Fenris laughing as he races to catch up with her.


	12. things you said when you thought I was asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12\. things you said when you thought I was asleep  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [Tundra – Jeremy Soule](https://youtu.be/T5apQy9lGxE?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

She has accepted his absence. He thinks, perhaps, she does not want to see him. On the third day, she knocks. Hawke is the only one who ever knocks before entering his mansion. A warning, one he usually uses to make himself presentable, greet her at the stairs. Today, he turns over in his bed, faces the wall. He squeezes his eyes closed, listens to her footsteps. She sees his huddled form, and sighs. He hears her put something on his desk.

She sits on his bed, tucks hair behind his ears. “You shouldn’t sleep with your door unlocked, silly,” she says quietly. A whisper, as to not wake him. His heart pounds and he resists the urge to roll over, throw his arms around her. Ask for her forgiveness, again and again. The bed creaks when she leans over, a hand still in his hair. “I love you,” she murmurs, presses a soft kiss against his head.

Another creak from the bed as she rises, leaves the way she came. She’s left him food on the desk, a bottle of wine. Three days. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the fourth. She knocks on that day as well. He hides again, like a coward. She doesn’t sit on the bed this time. She simply bends over, a hand on his head and one on his shoulder, “I love you,” and a kiss. She’s left him more food, a deck of cards.

It’s Sebastian on the fifth day, asking if he’d like to come to the Hanged Man. “I can’t,” is all Fenris can say. Sebastian takes a seat on the bench across from him, smiles.

“What happened between you and Hawke?” Fenris raises his head, frowns before looking away once again. “She misses you,” he says. “Whatever it is you think you’ve done, it’s already forgiven.” Sebastian moves to rise.

“I left her,” Fenris says, his voice breaking on the second word. Sebastian pauses, fetches the bottle of wine before sitting back down. He cracks it open, takes a swig from it before passing it to Fenris. He follows Sebastian’s example, takes a few gulps. “I left her and she still…”

“Well, it’s plain to see that you still,” Sebastian raises his eyebrows, “her too.” Fenris nods, catches his forehead with his palm, his elbows on his knees.

“She deserves better,” Fenris says.

“She only wants you,” Sebastian tells him.


	13. things you said at the kitchen table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 13\. things you said at the kitchen table  
>  **Recommended Listening: ******[Lost in You - Mass Effect](https://youtu.be/XmN3eD1O0lw)  
>  _Chapter is NSFW_

They’re supposed to be making breakfast. The eggs are cracked, but the shells are on the ground. Part of an egg is dripping from the counter. There’ll be time for food later. There’s been too much time lost between them already. She’s sitting on the kitchen table, her arms draped over Fenris’s shoulders. Her robe is practically hanging off of her, too easy for Fenris to pull the knot of the belt loose, slip his hands inside.

Gooseflesh follows his touch, fingers finding her ribs, a hand at her waist. Her hand moves through his hair, and she groans into his mouth. She bites at his bottom lip, takes advantage of his surprise to slip her tongue inside his mouth. Better than any breakfast, they eat at each other hungrily. There’s no space between them, and her hands trail down his bare back.

She slips her hands into the waist band of his pants, finds the laces. Hawke takes him in hand, finds him hard and wanting. She presses the kiss harder, fiercer, as she strokes his cock. He fucks into her hand eagerly, finding a breast with his hand. He rolls a nipple between his fingers, breaks the kiss with a gasp to assault her jaw, her neck, push her back down onto the table.

He leans over her, his hands tracing every inch of her. She settles her arms beside her, a form of surrender, as she watches him examine her. His fingers trace her collarbone, move between the valley of her breasts. Over ribs and stomach, his fingers bite into her hips as he tugs her closer. He presses a thumb against her clit, runs teasing fingers between wet folds.

Hawke props herself up on one elbow, her other hand reaching for his shoulder. He rubs the underside of his cock against her wet, and she throws her head back and groans. She wraps her legs around him, presses an impatient heel against his ass. “I need you,” she tells him. He leans over, finding her mouth again, stealing greedy kisses as he pushes inside her cunt.

His hands grip the underside of her thighs as he thrusts inside of her, watches as her back arches. She clings to him, moving her hips as much as she can to meet his. Their kisses grow sloppier, more desperate, hands bruising as they clutch each other. Hawke cries out at every thrust, her eyes squeezed closed and legs shaking.

“Fenris,” she murmurs and he wraps his arms around her, pulls her to sit up, lean against him. She gasps against his shoulder, hands fisting into his hair, against his back. Her mouth finds his neck, leaves a mark. Her legs squeeze against him as she suddenly goes quiet, hips still rocking against him as her cunt clenches around him in waves, toes curling as she comes.

“I – _Hawke_ , I am yours,” words devolve into harsh grunts as he follows her, spilling seed inside of her. Still breathing heavy, kiss after calming kiss, hands cupping his face.

“I love you,” she breathes.


	14. things you said after you kissed me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14\. things you said after you kissed me  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [Infinite Zero - Jessica Curry](https://youtu.be/dqnFds7oO-c?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

“Command me to go, and I shall.”

“No need.” She smiles when she reaches for him, questioning fingers on his jaw. She traces them upwards, tucks hair behind his ear. She follows the point downward, back to his cheek. Her hand is warm, thumb brushing against his cheekbone. He steps forward, closes the gap between them, hands finding her hips, resting unsteadily against her.

“May I kiss you?” She asks quietly. He closes his eyes, nods. Her face leans close, he can feel her breath on his skin. She hovers, her nose against his, her lips just there but not quite touching. “Fenris,” she says, “you have to say yes.”

“Yes,” he breathes. His face is still in her hands, her body pressed against his as his hands travel stiffly from her waist to the small of her back. Ever upwards, traveling the length of her, feeling bone and muscle, pressing between shoulder blades. She plants the smallest kiss, the lightest, the kindest. She gives him another after wetting her lips, allows him to sink into it.

Fingers drift over his face, his neck, arms draping over his shoulders. Always the small kiss before the longer, space in between, room to say no. It makes him hold her closer, tighter, more, more, and more. Arms link, fumble, “Fenris, may I touch you?”

“Yes.” She undoes the clasp of his belt, lets it fall to the floor. Her hands find the buttons of his tunic, begins to undo them one by one. A button, a kiss. A button, a kiss. Hands on shoulders, pushing his tunic off, hands on skin. Another kiss, another question. “Yes.” He answers. Hands that travel downwards, careful not to follow markings, feeling him for him and not because of _those_.

He closes his eyes, knocks his forehead against hers. “Hawke, I –”

“Yes,” she says. His turn, hands on her face, tracing the line of her jaw. Thumbs over her cheekbones. Tucking hair behind her ear. A kiss, her answer, wet and warm not just in his mouth but a burning in his chest. “Yes.” Pulling the belt of her robe, undoing the knot. Hands on shoulders, pushing her robe off, hands on skin. “Yes.” Feeling ribs that move with heavy breath, a heart that beats quicker because of him. It’s almost too much.

He moves forward, pressing, pushing, asking please, please, please. Her back against the wall, her hands in his hair, a resounding yes, yes, yes. He lifts her, hands on her thighs, carries her towards the bed. “Fenris,” she says, bright and brilliant, beautiful and his.

“Hawke,” he answers, and he is lost.


	15. things you said with too many miles between us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15\. things you said with too many miles between us  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [All Gone (Reunion) - Gustabo Santaolalla](https://youtu.be/ag61tsb0z6o?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

“Cheer up,” Isabela tells him, “you’ll see her again soon.” He keeps his arms crossed, doesn’t look at her. He’s gotten used to the sway of the boat, the spray of salt water in his face. The sound of gulls, the smell of fish. Her absence was something he could never get used to. It was an itch at the back of his neck, an ache in his spine, a cold in his hands. The Chantry searches for the Champion. All it takes is the flash of white hair to point them in the right direction.

He sighs, closes his eyes, and rubs them with a hand. Hair you could dye, the markings he could not. Too noticeable. Too dangerous to be around her. It was Varric who told them this solemnly. _Send Broody one way, you go the other. They’ll be looking for him first._ Hawke’s hand had shook in his, held it tight. She didn’t want to let go any more than he did. Fenris flexes that now empty hand, one that had been empty for far too long.

Isabela had volunteered to take him. Have him seen at different ports, scatter the Seekers in their search. Hawke donned a hood, set off into the dark with no one at her side. The worry knotted in his chest, pushed out air, choked him dry. She was alone. What would happen to her if they found her? What if she was hurt with no one to help? He should be at her side.

“This was a mistake,” he mutters to Isabela. Isabela gives him a sympathetic smile, pats his shoulder. He throws an irritated glance at the gulls who scream in the sky. He rubs his eyes once again. He can see her behind closed lids – raven hair, blue eyes, that brilliant smile. Her laughter rings in his ears. Her touch lingers on his skin. The ghost of a memory, a pale reflection of the real thing.

“I should not have left her side,” Fenris says.

“You’ll like our next stop then,” Isabela tells him.

 

[continued in Things You Said 16.]


	16. things you said with no space between us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 16\. things you said with no space between us  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [All I Need - Vitamin String Quartet](https://youtu.be/3AfBI-zmUHo?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

Fenris paces on the deck of Isabela’s ship. She had promised this stop, _this stop_. A single sentence in a letter Merrill had sent. His heart races when the dock comes into sight. He’s anxious and nervous, impatient and unwilling to wait any longer. He practically leaps off the side of the boat when they’re anchored. He races through the streets of Gwaren, towards the promised address.

He bursts through the door, panting heavily, sweat on his brow, eyes scanning the bar. She sees him before he sees her. He hears the sound of a chair hitting the floor, pushed back by someone rising too quickly. She makes her way around the table, runs towards him with her arms outstretched.

 _Relief_. Absolute relief eases its way into Fenris’s bones as he scoops her up in his arms, holds her tightly against him. She’s where she fits the best, where he needs her the most. She smells of fields and ale, he smells of the sea. Her hair is longer, cut lopsided. His is shorter, cut neater. She laughs into his chest, shakes as she holds him as tight as she can.

He cups her face in his hands. “ _Hawke_. You are unharmed?” She smiles, shakes her head.

“I’m fine. You?” He brushes back shorn locks from her face, swallows her in a deep kiss.

“Better now,” he breathes. She takes his hand, leads him to her room. He’s found her again, his Hawke. Kiss after kiss, he cannot get enough, reminding himself of her taste. He peels off her cloak, lets it drop to the floor. Unbuckles her armor, undoes the laces of her tunic.

He examines every inch of bare skin, fingers tracing each new scar and bruise. “Bandits,” she tells him at one. “Clumsy,” she admits at another. She stands, leaning against the wall, allows him to drink her in. He kneels down before her, a hand running from her ankle to her thigh, wrapping his arms around her.

He feels her hand run through his hair. “I’ve missed you love,” she tells him quietly. He looks up at her, presses a kiss to her belly, rises to his feet. He allows her to do the same in return, skilled hands at his armor. They fall into the bed together, and he stretches out over her. Her hands travel on his back, finding every dip, every bump, tracing down his spine.

They nestle close together, content to kiss, content to feel, to laugh and whisper all the things they did while they were apart. “I love you,” he tells her, kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips. “Never again. I stay with you.”

“Yes,” she says, entwining their hands together, “and I with you.”


	17. things you said that I wish you hadn’t

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17\. things you said that I wish you hadn’t  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [Motion Picture Soundtrack - Vitamin String Quartet](https://youtu.be/FHosxjqsJ_A?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

“Oh,” she says, “it’s you.” He sighs, kneels down before her, and rests his head on her lap. She smiles, runs her fingers through his hair. “I’ve missed you.” He closes his eyes, feels her hand on his head, on his shoulder. She’s leaning over, holding him tightly. She’s still smiling, laughing against him. Fenris moves back, slipping from her embrace.

Hawke reaches out, touches his cheek. “You look just like him,” she says quietly.

“I can be him,” he says. She leans back on the ruin she’s sitting on and sighs. She tilts her head back, looking up at the green sky, the rocks floating above her. “I can love you.” She chuckles, looks back at him.

“That’s sweet of you. I still only want the real Fenris.” Fenris cocks his head, rises to his feet. He stretches out his hand towards her. She takes it, allows him to help pull her up. They walk hand in hand.

“The real Fenris let you die here,” he says.

“That’s not very nice of you to say,” she tells him. “I convinced him to let me go. I told him it was too dangerous for him with the red lyrium. I wanted to keep him safe.” _I need to help the Inquisition_.

“He should have gone with you.” _Don’t leave me Hawke_.

“I should have stayed,” she says. _I’ll be home soon_.

“I would not have let you leave.” _Please don’t go_.

“I didn’t give him a choice, in the end. I left while he was sleeping,” she sighs. _I’m sorry Fenris_.

Fenris shakes his head, knits his brows together. “Why would you do that?” She gives him a watery laugh.

“I’m the Champion of Kirkwall. I’m still trying to play hero. I thought… I thought I could help. I thought it would save him. He’s been through so much. A lot because of me. I wanted him to be happy. I don’t want him to have to fight anymore.”

“He would have fought for you.”

“He would have been stuck here with me.”

“He’d prefer that, to being alone.”

“I’m just happy he’s alive.”

“He isn’t.” She stops walking, covers her face with her hands.

“Don’t say that,” she whispers.

“I’m sorry.” She feels hands on her shoulders, slipping down her arms, pulling her hands away from her tear streaked face. The ghost of Fenris gives her a kiss on each cheek.

“Thank you for letting me see him again,” she says. The spirit nods, fades away. Hawke slumps down, leans against a rock, and pulls her knees to her chest. The demons would find her soon.


	18. things you said when I was scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18\. things you said when I was scared  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [My Name is Max - Tom Holkenborg](https://youtu.be/-qxBydbrv-g?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

Hawke likes the version of her that exists in Varric’s stories. That Hawke is never afraid and always knows what to do. She wasn’t frightened when the Carta showed up at her door. She wasn’t frightened descending into an ancient Grey Warden prison. She hears the call of Darkspawn, and instantly her bones grow cold. Fenris, Varric and Anders move to fight instantly.

It’s all silence, background noise, the steady thud of Bianca firing arrows the loudest of it all. _Thunk_. It blurs together, fades her vision, and her heart is squeezing in her chest. _Thunk_. It hurts, it hurts, she’s trying to breathe but her lungs just won’t move. _Thunk_. She’s stepping backwards, her hands shaking, face pale, barely able to even hold her staff. _Thunk_.

His sword sings on the battlefield. Metal slicing through air, through flesh, biting into bone and breaking spawn. It’s a dance, it’s his dance. The lyrium sings along, step after step, kill after kill. “Fenris,” it’s barely a whisper. “Help me.” It cuts through the song. Fenris turns, looks towards Hawke. She’s not moving, even as the Darkspawn descend upon her.

He fights through them quickly as Varric goes to Anders, helps him kill the remaining stragglers. Hawke is swaying on her feet, held up by her staff, sweat beading on her brow and taking short panicked breathes. Fenris sheathes his sword, walks towards her carefully.

“Look at me,” Fenris places his hands lightly on her cheeks, tilts her face towards him. “Breathe.” She clings to his arms forcing herself to look at him. She blinks hard, squeezes her eyes shut before opening them again, and his face slowly comes into focus. “Hawke. It’s alright.” She squeezes her eyes closed again.

“Breathe with me,” he says and she forces herself to inhale. Her eyes snap open, watch as he nods and takes a heavy breath in time with her. She follows his lead, and slowly the pain in her chest begins to recede. His thumb is moving in light circles on her cheek, and he’s still whispering “it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry I –”

“There’s no need to apologize,” he tells her as his hands drop to his side. She reaches for one, takes it in hers.

“Stay? A few more moments… I don’t want the others to see me like this.” Fenris pauses, then turns so his back faces Varric and Anders, covering their sight of her. He gives her hand a small squeeze.

“As long as you need, I remain at your side.”


	19. things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19\. things you said when we were the happiest we ever were  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [Closer - Otto A. Totland](https://youtu.be/hMHOyklihmY?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

She rolls over in the bed, flattens herself on top of him. Legs entwine with legs, her elbows pressing into the mattress. She leans over him, hair falling down long about her like a curtain. She’d be asking him to cut it for her soon. He had discovered her once, sitting cross-legged before a mirror, sharpened dagger in her hands, bangs lopsided and awkward. He’d been cutting her hair for her ever since. He tucks a particularly long lock behind her ear. 

She smiles at him, presses her forehead against his, brushes a kiss against his lips. His hands slip underneath her arms, wrap around her, fingertips pressing against skin, slipping from shoulder to spine, tracing down her back. “Fenris,” she says, “If I were to ask you to marry me, what would you say?” The movements of his hands pause, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you asking?” 

“Hypothetically?” 

“Hypothetically,” he says flatly. She gives him a lopsided grin. _Lady Amell_. That’s what she is. Despite the magic that hides beneath starlight skin, the fire buried beneath blue eyes, the Hawke that runs through her blood. Champion of Kirkwall. Loved and hated, worshipped and despised in equal measure. To capture her hand was to capture coin and status. She needed someone with the power to match hers. Not the love of a former _elven_ slave. Her grin falters at his frown. 

She moves, forces him to sit up, his hands on her hips as she straddles him. She plays with his bangs, pinches hair between her fingers. Her touch brushes against his ears, their pointed tips. She leans forward with a sigh, her hands settling on his shoulders. “I know what you’re thinking. I know the argument you’re crafting in that silly head of yours.” She pokes a hard finger into his forehead to prove her point. She cups his face in her hands. 

“I would show them all that I belong with you. That you belong with me,” she tells him. Belong with, not to. Effortless in her words, always knowing what to say. “I would marry you because I _love_ you.” Hands that squeeze tighter around her waist, a frown for a different reason. “Fenris.” A whispered word, a ghost of a kiss upon his lips. 

She deserved someone with the power and status to help protect her. She deserved someone with coin of their own. She deserved a lord. He would not let her go. “My Hawke,” he says. She smiles, kissing him again, fingers brushing against his cheeks. 

“Marry me,” she says. “Not hypothetical.”


	20. things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20\. things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [A Blessing – Max Richter](https://youtu.be/kNYc-443G6E?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

He gently moves a strand of hair that had fallen across her face, tucks it behind her ear as she sleeps. He’s loathe to stop touching her. A brush across her cheek, a caress, his hand shaking as he pulls away. He replaces human heat with the cold touch of metal, pointed gauntlets over his wrists, his fingers. He should leave while she still sleeps. Never before has he wanted to flee from Hawke.

He leans his forehead against the mantle of her fireplace, clenching his fists together. Even the fire cannot warm him. His very bones seem cold. He loves her. He squeezes his eyes shut. She deserves better than him. She deserves someone whole. Not this broken thing he is. “Was it that bad?” Her voice, so light behind him, pulling the bedsheet to her chest as she sits up. It’s too late to run. What could he say to her?

He talks as though he’s in a dream. He barely knows the words he’s speaking. “I cannot – do this. I can’t. I _can’t_.” The only thing that’s clear to him is the look on Hawke’s face, the way her shoulders slump, her eyes downcast at the floor. That lock of hair he had placed so neatly falls again, down in front of her face, covering her eyes. Her knuckles are white from holding the sheet so tightly, the corners of her mouth curled downwards.

“Forgive me,” he says after all the other words. It’s the only thing left to say. He wants to leave but he cannot leave her. Cannot be without her. She would send him away now. She would hate him. Perhaps that is better. He would rather face her wrath than her sadness. The bed creaks when she stands, takes his hand as he walks away.

“Fenris,” she says. “My feelings will not change. I’ll wait as long as you need.” Her hand slips from his. He closes the door behind him, clenches his teeth, and rubs his brow, gauntlets still cold and biting. It becomes worse, this choking in his chest. His heart beats irregularly. He thinks he might throw up. He knows he should leave. He’s now an intruder, an interloper, unwanted in her home.

He’s never heard Hawke cry.

Not until tonight.


	21. things you said when we were on top of the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 21\. things you said when we were on top of the world  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [End Titles - Rachel Portman](https://youtu.be/Tc_zL6X2egQ?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)  
>  _Slight NSFW_

She tilts her head upwards, exposing the soft flesh of her throat. He’s quick to place his mouth there, his hand on the back of her neck, kisses on her skin. _Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you_. Her hands stitch on his shoulders, moving to wind in his hair. Her forehead presses against his with a gasp, eyes squeezed shut. _I understood, I always understood_. She leans forward even more, cupping his face with her hands, capturing his mouth with hers. Wet and warm, a taste he’s missed but never forgotten. _If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side_.

Her toes curl, knees pressed into his mattress. His legs, bent behind her like a brace, his hands travelling the length of her back. From the dip in her lower back, following each bump of her spine. He finds every scar, each birthmark, memorizes every freckle. He moves finger down the scar that runs through the middle of her belly, making her shiver at the touch. He savors the way she holds tighter, the mewling sounds that escape her.

He cups one breast with his hand, rolling a nipple between his fingers. The other, he takes into his mouth. She cries out at the feel of his bite, her hips stuttering in their movements. A line of spit pops when he moves away, seeking her mouth once again. He holds her tight in his arms as he rolls them, until she is trapped beneath him. He stretches out on top of her, her legs wrapping around his waist, heels of her feet pressing against him. He finds one of her hands, entwines it with his.

Fluttering kisses on her cheeks, by her neck, his head pressing into the pillow beside her. She breathes into his ear, her free hand scrabbling at his back. He listens to every heavy breath, each quiet moan, and the whimpers that come with every hard thrust. He keeps their bodies pressed tight together, grunting as his hand bruises at her hip.

“Hawke,” he says, “I am yours.” She stifles her cry against his shoulder, shaking as she comes. He is not long after her, burying himself to the hilt inside of her, calling out her name. He settles gently atop her, her legs still wound in his, her hand drifting on his back.

“I love you Fen,” she murmurs, seeks his face for another long kiss.


	22. things you said after it was over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22\. things you said after it was over  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [Sanctuary - The Last Guardian OST](https://youtu.be/R5MjW5y4iCg?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

Breathing hurts. She aches, deep down in her bones. It’s a pain that won’t be easy to sweep away. She can barely keep herself standing and so she leans against her staff, before the smoking ruin of what was once Knight-Commander Meredith. It will be some time before her mana returns to her fully. She’s emptied, barren, blank, exhausted and defeated. They’ve won, but she has lost. She pulls the dagger from her belt, bloodstained metal, lets it fall to the stones below. She leaves it with Meredith.

She sinks into the bath when she gets home, watches clear water turn muddy and red. She presses her hands to her face, hunches over in the water. There’s no tears that accompany her broken sobs. She’s empty of those as well. Her hands shake when she pulls them back down, buries them under the water, scratches at the guilt that lingers there. She barely hears the door open, barely sees him kneel down by the tub.

Fenris takes her hands, holds them in his. “It is done. You did what you could,” he tells her.

“No. Anders would still be alive,” Hawke says. Fenris squeezes her hands tightly, leans forward to press his forehead against her temple. “I’m – what am I supposed to do now? I _killed_ one of my – I murdered him.” She says it with a blank expression. Without thinking, he rises, clambers into the bath with her. The water rises, spills over the side, puddles on the floor.

He pulls her close, her head at his chest, his arms wrapped around her. He kisses wet hair, her hands fist into his tunic. “What am I supposed to do Fenris?” He runs his fingers through her hair, light touches against her scalp. He leans back, wipes water from her face. A kiss on each cheek.

“You did what was right. Now we move forward,” he tells her. He cups her face in his hands, thumbs moving against cheekbones. Another kiss, on the lips this time, gentle and slow, her hands on his wrists. “Together. We stay together.” She nods, blinking rapidly, bottom lip trapped between her teeth. He helps pull her to her feet, reaching for the towel.

She falls asleep quickly, wrapped in his arms. Her head nestled in the crook of his arm, her hand on his chest. Their legs are entwined together, blankets warm and safe. He watches her sleep, keeps her close. Her eyes open sleepily when he moves to pull her even closer, his arms tight around her. “Fen.” A kiss planted hard against her forehead.

“I am – relieved. You are safe. I have you – with _me_.” Sure as the red on his wrist, he would stay by her side.

“Always,” she murmurs into his chest.


	23. things you said when I began to trust you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23\. things you said when I began to trust you  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [Outside Your Locked Heart - Wixel](https://youtu.be/tVnrcUAK4Wo?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

Hawke hums as she pulls the wine bottle from her lips, passing it back to Fenris. She was the only regular visitor to his mansion. Tonight she had brought dinner, a medley of things cooked by Leandra. Fenris brushes back his hair as he eases into the chair, took a sip. “Your hair is getting long,” Hawke says from the bench, her elbow on her knee, chin in her hands. Fenris takes a section of his bangs, holds it before him.

“I suppose,” he says, setting the wine bottle beside his chair.

“You should let me cut it,” Hawke says as she leans back, stretches, her arms in the air, eyes squeezed shut. She gives a contented sigh as she eases back into a relaxed position. “I cut Carver’s hair all the time and he doesn’t look awful.” Fenris chuckles, shakes his head.

“I _am_ offering,” Hawke smiles. It’s not too long before she has Fenris in a chair, in just his tunic, a towel around his neck. She sits on the table behind him, bare feet on the edges of his chair, scissors in her hands. He flinches at the first touch of her hand at his hair.

She doesn’t start cutting yet. She simply eases him into the touch. She threads fingers through his hair, light scratches against his scalp, until his shoulders relax. Only then does he feel her gather a few locks, hear the scissors coming together. “Who are you taking to the Deep Roads?” He asks, closing his eyes. The crackle of the fire, the snip of the scissors. Hawke’s thoughtful hum.

“Carver would likely murder me in my sleep if I don’t take him. Varric for sure. Anders for if things go bad,” she says at last, brushing away loose pieces of hair from his neck.

“You should bring me,” Fenris says.

“Oh?” She says, amusement clear in her voice. “And why is that?”

“I owe you a debt. The Deep Roads are dangerous,” he says. He hears her put the scissors down on the desk beside her. His eyes open as her arms wrap around his neck, her face appearing beside his as she hugs him.

“Why Fenris, you do care!” He grunts, but says nothing, his cheeks coloring, and a hand on her arm. “You’ve already paid that debt,” she says softly, “almost every day since. The Deep Roads are going to be miserable. I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck down there with me.” She leans back, releasing him from her embrace, moving back to her task.

He’s been sleeping in his armor. This is one of the few times he is out of it. The only time he is out of it in front of another person. A mage, of all things. Hawke. A friend? Even he isn’t sure. His ears twitch as hair falls free, tickles against his neck. He has his back to her, a sharp thing in her hand. He should be… fire crackling, snip of the scissors, and Hawke’s occasional hum of a long forgotten lullaby. He closes his eyes once again. It’s safe, in a way he’s never felt before.

“You should take me,” he says firmly. She laughs softly under her breath.

“Alright Fenris, I’ll think about it.”


	24. things you said that didn’t make sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 24\. things you said that didn’t make sense  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [Written on the Sky – Max Richter](https://youtu.be/0cVSH-G3iTU?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

The sun shines warm on his skin, and he finds it’s easier than usual to hide within the crowd of the market. He does not wear his armor, he does not bring his sword. He’s simply dressed in his tunic, his leggings, standing by Hawke’s side. She tucks hair behind her ear as she bends over, inhaling deeply the medley of spices in the stall before her. She too is dressed simply, without her staff, without all that marks her as Champion. She’s still recognized occasionally, of course, and she greets all with a smile and cheerful words.

It’s been a few months since the Qunari, since the Arishok, since Hawke was unable to sit up in bed without assistance. He knows the pain still lurks inside of her, a scar that’s only just healed. It’s barely noticeable, the occasional glower and a hand pressed to her belly. He’s hardly left her side since. She needs to be protected. With new fame comes new danger.

She’s speaking cordially with the shopkeeper, pointing at exactly what she wants. Fenris half turns while she speaks, his eyes moving from person to person to person until his breath his stolen from his lungs. He stiffens, eyes fixed, mind racing. It can’t be. All noise is swept away, and he’s left with only a buzzing that rings in his ears. “Fenris,” a hand on his arm, gentle pressure, Hawke’s light voice, “what is it?” He forces himself to breathe out.

“That man,” he nods his head in the direction, “I believe he is a magister from Tevinter.” Fenris knows he is. He’s seem him before, at one of Danarius’s countless parties. He goes through the motions of reaching for his sword, hand grasping at empty air. How could he have ever thought – he should not be – he’s going to – thoughts swept away as Hawke takes his hand, begins to drag him away.

She leads him to one of the tight alleyways, presses him against the wall, covering him with herself. It’s colder in the shade, in the shadow between buildings. Her eyes narrow as she watches the crowd, shielding Fenris from view. A bag of apples is held loosely in her other hand, the other still holding tight to his. His mind races, heart beating equally fast. He groans to himself, presses his free hand against his temple, hunches over.

“Fenris,” almost a whisper. She drops the apples, hand moving to his face, fingertips against his cheek. “Fenris, it’s alright. You’re safe. I’ll protect you.” What? That’s not – he’s supposed to be protecting her. Her hands drop to his waist as she tugs him closer, arms tight around him. Oh. _Oh_. He’s never allowed himself this close, not since… not since. Hands shaking, winding in her tunic, face in the crook of her neck.

This close, every word she speaks is like a shout. She’s rubbing soft circles onto his back. “I love you, Fen.” That doesn’t – that doesn’t make any sense. He squeezes his eyes closed, hugs her harder. He left her, he was a fool, he is weak, he is – “I love you.” An unsteady breath. His hands shake less. He doesn’t want to open his eyes.


	25. things you said at Satinalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 25\. things you said at Satinalia  
>  **Recommended Listening** : [Mrs Fitz - Bear McCreary](https://youtu.be/0xPv3gbrIsM?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

Aveline is the first. She barges in without knocking, a plate of food in her hands. She slips past Hawke as she stands in the doorway. Hawke is only half dressed, dark circles under her eyes. They’ve barely spoken since Leandra passed. Aveline moves to the kitchen, sets the plate down. Only then does she turn to Hawke, eyes moving up and down, appraising her. “You’d best get dressed. The others will be here soon,” she says.

“The others? What? I don’t -?” Aveline has her hands on Hawke’s shoulders, spinning her around, marching her up the stairs. She practically throws Hawke into her bathroom just as Orana slips out, a bath freshly drawn. Isabela and Anders are there by the time Hawke is walking down the stairs, still buttoning up her pants. There are three bottles on the table; whiskey she’s never tasted, gin she’s never wanted and the ale she craves.

Varric shows up with Merrill, lugging a box between them. Bodahn is setting the table, bringing out the silverware and the finest glasses. Sebastian and Fenris are the last to arrive, a bottle of the Aggregio in Fenris’s hands, another plate of food in Sebastian’s. “Happy Satinalia!” Sebastian beams. Hawke has her hands in still wet hair, watching as they chatter amongst themselves as they set up. Evidently, she was not privy to all their plans.

Fenris pulls out her chair for her, motions for her to sit at the head of the table. Aveline carves the turkey, while Varric laughs as he passes the potatoes. Merrill drops stuffing into her lap, Isabela’s feet half on the table as she starts devouring the gin by herself. Sebastian is cutting up beans neatly, while Anders fishes for the perfect slice of ham.

Fenris has his hands under the table, fidgeting with something in his lap. Eventually he pushes a small box towards her. “Happy Satinalia Hawke,” he says before fumbling with his fork, filling his mouth with food as his face reddens and he looks away from her. Hawke pulls at the neatly wrapped bow, pushes off the lid.

By the end of the night they’re warm with alcohol and each other’s company. They pile together in Hawke’s living room, Isabela with her head in Hawke’s lap. She runs fingers through the pirate’s hair, smiles as Merrill leans her head on her shoulder. Orana is holding Isabela’s legs in her lap on the other end of the couch. Bodahn plucks quiet strings of the lute, Sandal clapping his hands together.

Fenris and Sebastian are talking with each other in low tones. Fenris’s deep rumbling laugh never fails to make her smile. Anders is leaning back in his chair, mentioning how he’s not wearing any underpants. He wanted his belly truly free for this. Aveline groans and rubs her face while Varric roars with laughter.

They push furniture out of the way, Orana and Hawke working together to find every pillow, every blanket in the house. They craft the floor of the living room into a giant bed, the lot of them crawling in together. Somehow, Hawke ends up beside Fenris. She lies on her side, watches him as he pretends to sleep. Somewhere by her feet, Anders complains that he’s going to burst.

They wake up tangled together, Hawke’s arm thrown over Fenris’s chest, her head in the crook of his arm. Isabela is over her, arms wrapped around Hawke’s waist, while Merrill is curled like a kitten at her back. Aveline is holding Varric like a stuffed bear, while Anders and Sebastian spoon. Orana and Sandal are pressed against Bodahn, a hand each in his beard.

Breakfast is a slow, unhurried thing, the lot of them feeling the pounding in their head. They chew slowly, drink all the water they can find. Only Fenris notices the silver around Hawke’s pinky finger. A ring, engraved with small wolves. “Hello,” she smiles from across the table. He smiles back, pleased she likes his gift.


	26. things you said before we were together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 26\. things you said before we were together  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [For Those We Loved – Austin Wintory](https://youtu.be/h1Ps_8h-g6o?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)  
>  _NSFW_

He sits as patiently as he can. She has a hand at the back of his neck, the other brushing hair back from his forehead. She tucks it behind his ear, fingertips ghosting over the tip and sending a shiver down his spine. A thumb moves over the cut she finds hidden behind white locks. “Are you ready?” Hawke asks, her face so close to his. He could count every freckle, this close. She’s bent over while he sits in the chair, hair slipping from its place against her cheek.

“I am,” he says, and she smiles. He sees her tongue make an appearance between two pink lips, and he can feel the heat of her magic against the wound. Her thumb, again and again, moving over his skin. Her hand is still on his neck, holding him in place. Fenris misses it when she pulls away.

“All done,” she says, wringing her hands together. “It didn’t hurt when I-? Did it?”

“No,” he tells her, and means it. Hers is the only magic he’ll accept upon him. Hers is the magic that feels warm like her. Gentle, like her touch. His face flushes at the thought. She smiles again, moves to sit on the floor beside him.

“Do you mind?” She asks, pointing at his knee. He barely makes a sound before her head is resting against his thigh, her arms tapping against his leg. She sighs contently, her knees curling close. He’s sure she has her eyes closed. Her fingers are moving in patterns, delicate touches against his leg, his knee, his inner thigh. They’re silent there for a moment, Fenris’s knuckles white as he holds tight to the armrests.

It’s silent but for the easy crackle of the fire, Hawke’s occasional hum. One of Fenris’s hands lifts from the chair. Slow and hesitant, fingertips first, against her hair. It takes him some time before he lets his weight down completely. His fingers thread through her hair, soft and smelling faintly of lavender.

“I’m thinking of going to the Wounded Coast tomorrow,” she says when she finally moves once again. She kneels before him, her arms crossed over her legs, chin resting on her hands. “Did you want to come?”

“I, ah, yes. Of course,” he says, hoping she does not see the red in his cheeks.

“Thanks Fenris. I’d be useless without you,” she smiles. He coughs away the blush. He walks her to his door, watches as she clasps her hands behind her back, practically skipping the way back to Lowtown. He closes the door, leans against the frame, and runs a hand through his hair. She was right _there_. She was touching _him_. Tracing freckles like constellations. Her hands not just staying at his knee.

He slips fingers into the waistband of his leggings. Pulls them down just enough to free himself. Masturbation was a luxury he’d embraced. He was too afraid of being caught before, by some other slave or a guard. When he escaped, it was simply something he did, because he could. Now he touches himself with purpose, hand wrapping around his cock and stroking hard.

Tongue between two pink lips. Her smile at his knee. Where else did she have freckles? He groans as he touches the tip, finds himself leaking with pre-cum already. He thinks of her voice, light in his ear. _Fenris_. He slides down against the door, the stone of the floor cold against his ass. He leans his head back against the door as his breathing quickens, hand moving faster, fist tighter.

He comes into his hand, relaxing, his legs stretching out. He keeps his head against the door. He shouldn’t – Hawke was his friend. Perhaps his only one. He squeezes his eyes closed. Did she even-? Would she ever think of him that way? He’s slow to get to his feet, wash away the evidence. He buries himself under the blanket of his bed, face against the pillow.


	27. things you said when you were jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 27\. things you said when you were jealous  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [Berlin by Overnight – Max Richter](https://youtu.be/LoqZ-gxxR04?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

He’s never wanted to go to any of these parties. Sparkling glasses in their hands, suits made of the finest fabric, ribbons and flowers in their hair. Hawke has begged him to come with her since the first invitation. He had given her an abject ‘no’ each and every time. That is, until he began to see more and more of her. Nights spent waiting up for her by the fire, a book in his hands. She’d come home with anger plain on her face, make her way towards him with a fire in her belly.

Her kisses would be messy, her hands seeking and rough. All she would ask is that he touch her. They’d tear that fine silk off of her together and he’d run his hands from shoulder to hip. She would melt into his touch, cling to him as he wrapped his hands around her ribs, warm and comforting, and “please” is all she would say.

So tonight, he has finally said yes. Yes to seeing what makes Hawke frustrated so. Yes to seeing what angers her, makes her need him so terribly. Fenris crosses his arms, leaning against a post, one of those glasses in his hands. She was quickly stolen from his side as countless nobles flocked to her. He could see expression sour and sour, the more they talked. Then he stiffens as he stands straighter. Someone touching her, just there, a hand against her lower back. The noble leans to whisper something in her ear.

She crushes her hand around his arm, removes his touch. Fenris watches it happen again and again, a different noble each and every time. Hawke does not shout, does not yell, simply gives her warning and glowers. So new to nobility, she cannot afford to make such a scene. Fenris sets his glass down on the table. He does not touch her like the others.

He simply wedges his way next to her, so that she can see him. “Hawke, I need to speak to you.” Hawke looks at him for a moment before nodding, following him away. The circle of people she has left turn, watch her go. He stops her in the middle of the hall.

“What is it Fen-” He pulls her into a tight embrace, arms around her waist, tipping her back as one of his legs parts hers. He is not usually so demanding with his kisses. He forces her lips to part, slips a tongue inside her mouth. Her arms wrap around his neck and she’s taken with it, allows him to do what he will.

He’s always considered affection a private thing. Something to be cherished away from prying eyes. Somewhere to show the true scope of his feelings. He cares not for the eyes upon them tonight. He cares less for the way they paw at his Hawke. She’s dazed as they pull apart.

“You are mine,” he whispers to her.

“Yes,” she says, leaning up to plant a smaller kiss against his lips.

No other person touches her that night.


	28. things you said when you let me love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 28\. things you said when you let me love you  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [Come, Gentle Night – Abel Korzeniowski](https://youtu.be/utRfdyBEzYc?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)  
>  _NSFW_

He’ll never tire of the taste of her. Hands on her face, skin soft under his touch. Lips wet, tongue warm, eyes closed, her hands on his back. He pulls her bottom lip between his teeth, their noses bumping against each other as they shift. Fenris presses her against the wall, his hands slipping beneath her shirt, and she groans at his first touch against her belly.

“I want,” she breathes into his mouth, “to do something for you.” Hawke flips them deftly, pressing her body against his. Her kisses settle roughly on his mouth, her fingertips moving down his jaw, his throat, over his chest. Her kisses soon follow, further and further, until she is kneeling down before him.

“Hawke, what are –” she breathes over fabric, warm and teasing, her face pressing against his thigh. She hooks fingers into the waist band of his pants, begins to tug downwards. “Wait, Hawke I – I know what you’re doing and you don’t,” he closes his eyes, “please.” Submission. Humiliation. Degradation. That’s all it was. He would never make her do something like that. She rises to her feet, slowly and calmly, a thumb rubbing against his cheek. He opens his eyes to see her regarding him carefully.

“I want to,” she tells him firmly. “Fenris it isn’t – it’ll make you feel good. It’ll make me feel good.” He balks at that. How could it? It was always a punishment for disobedience. Her fingers brush against his bangs, tuck hair behind his ears. She smiles at him, presses her forehead against his.

“I promise I’ll enjoy it. If you hate it, all you have to do is tell me to stop,” she says, his hands clumsy around her waist. She slips through his fingers as she kneels down once again, looking up at him with such a careful expression. She’s slow to pull against his waistband, giving him time to say no if he wants to. He chooses to trust.

His hands clench into fists at the first touch of her tongue against his length. She has one hand splayed against his thigh, the other stroking at the bottom of his shaft. She runs her tongue along the underside of his cock, kissing him again when she comes to the tip. He moans at that and her eyes flick upwards. “Yes?” She asks.

“Yes,” he says. With that, she has no more reservation and she seals her lips around his head. She swallows him whole, relishing the sound of his groans. Her tongue swirls around the head of him, her hand pumping at the base of his cock. She tastes salt, pre-cum beginning to flow freely now. His hand shakes, fisted against the wall. It takes him a few moments to work up the courage to place his hand on her head, threading through her hair.

She looks upwards at his touch, cheeks blushed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. He takes a deep shuddering breath, hunching over as she works at him. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucks, that damnable tongue ceaseless against him. “Hawke, I – I’m going to,” he can barely say the words, they escape as an almost inaudible whisper. The hand that was on his thigh moves its way to his ass, holding him tight so that he cannot pull away. His hand shakes as he shudders with his orgasm, spilling seed into her mouth.

She leans back, a thumb at the corner of her mouth, tongue flashing pink around her lips to catch it all. She looks up at him in worship, her hands unable to leave him even as she stands. He reaches for her, finds her tasting of him. “Did you like it?” She asks.

“I – yes, I did,” he says and she instantly smiles, breathing out with relief. She settles against him, a warm hug, and her hands traveling the length of his back. She feels all of him, loves every inch.

“Good,” she says against his shoulder, “I want to give you everything.”


	29. things you said with fingers pressed against the scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 29\. things you said with fingers pressed against the scar  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [She Remembers – Max Richter](https://youtu.be/WgsP9xITxgU?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

“Does it bother you?” She asks this as she straddles him, a finger tracing the scar on her belly. It runs from rib to hip, a jagged and brutal thing. His hand replaces hers over it, soft skin that’s warm against his palm.

“The only thing that bothers me is how you got it,” he tells her. The Arishok had finally caught her, rammed his sword through her gut. Unable to move, watching with horror, as the brute lifted her above his head. The panic that came after, pulling metal from flesh, his hands over the wound, blood spilling between his fingers. The desperation in keeping her eyes on him, begging her not to close them. Such a near thing.

Fenris frowns at it, reaches with his other hand to pull her down for a kiss. She obliges him, her hands moving to his shoulder. “Even before I got this,” another brush against the scar, “I knew. There was always something not quite right. A healer in Lothering confirmed it. This was simply the final nail.” Hawke moves off of him, settling herself beside him, crossing her legs and watching him earnestly.

“Does it bother you?” She asks again.

“Are you happy?” He challenges her question with his own, hands tracing the line of her jaw. She cocks her head, then furrows her brow. Fingers knit against the bedsheets.

“I am,” she says.

“I am as well. You are all I need to be happy,” he says. He tucks an errant lock of hair behind her ear. He leans forward, kisses her gently.

“I’ll be the last Hawke,” she says.

“We’ll be the last Hawkes,” he corrects. “Along with our countless mabaris, mhmm?” She laughs, swaying where she sits, until she moves forward, her arms around his neck. She leans into him, her body pressing against his. He smiles, his hand moving up and down upon her back. He follows the curve of her spine, allows her to sink into him.

“Fenris.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you as well.”


	30. things you said to someone else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said to someone else  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [Forest – The Last Guardian OST](https://youtu.be/u4KkTvnf8i0?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

Hawke sleeps peacefully. Her hair splayed over the pillow, her mouth slightly open, hands near her face. He keeps close to her, his nose practically touching her cheek. Fenris reaches out carefully, slips a hand underneath her shirt, and rests a hand over her middle. His hand drifts over the curve of her, his thumb rubbing small circles against her skin.

Hawke’s sleep becomes restless, more uncomfortable as the child inside her grows. She begins to sleep curled up against him like a cat, her belly carefully caught between the two of them. She always sleeps with arms wrapped around herself, his arms around her. An unspoken promise between the two of them. They would protect their child.

He brushes hair back from her sweat soaked forehead, his other hand caught in her grip. She grits her teeth, leaning her head back against the headboard. “Almost there,” the healer tells her, and Hawke gives a look that’s somewhere between rage and desperation. That fades when the healer hands her their child, nestled in warm blankets, squalling with newness.

Hawke’s touch is light against rounded red cheeks, at the soft wisps of dark hair, the small nose. “She has your ears,” she tells him as she shifts the bundle to Fenris’s arms, tears falling happily down her face.

Fenris sits on the edge of the bed, beside his wife, his daughter in his arms. He leans forward, white hair falling like a halo. He reaches out with a finger, finds it caught in her grip. Never, not for a moment, could he have imagined this. “Hello,” he murmurs, his forehead pressed against hers, his eyes squeezed closed, his shoulders shaking.

She grips his hands tight when she begins to take her first steps, confident in her father’s hold on her. Smiling, laughing, Hawke’s arms stretch out for a waiting hug, cooing encouragement with every step. Fenris takes a seat beside Hawke at the goal, she in Hawke’s arms, reaching for her mother’s hair.

A fussy eater, Fenris is patient at the table, food on his fingertip, waiting for her to reach out and take it. It’s during one of these sessions it happens. “Da.” Hawke drops the plate she was washing in the sink, turns around with a beaming smile. “Da.” Small arms reaching out towards Fenris’s face. He moves forward, presses a kiss to that nose that’s starting to resemble his. The smallest of giggles as grubby hands pull at his chin.

She settles on his lap as he reads. She follows along with her finger, whispering the words under her breath. He corrects her gently when he needs to, but she’s already come so far. Words fade, her hand slips from the page. She sleeps peacefully, head against his chest. Hawke takes the book for him, places it back on the shelf. She gives each forehead a kiss, before covering them with a blanket.

“Daddy!” She reaches upwards in demand, and he is hopeless to resist. He picks her up with ease, arms covered in dirt as she wraps them around his neck. Her hair is almost as long and wild as Hawke’s. Those blue eyes belong to Hawke as well. That nose, those ears, the shape of her chin. Those belong to him. A perfect blend of the both of them. He holds her tight, keeps her safe.

She resists the sudden assault of kisses, squirming in his arms, making noises of protestation. “I love you,” he tells her. She settles, her arms around his neck again, squeezing hard.

“I love you too dad.”


	31. things you said when we grew old together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said when we grew old together  
>  **Recommended Listening:** [That Solitary Moment Together – Max Richter](https://youtu.be/xxvVdiV3jqI?list=PL9BED_fEuBDjuLU4cgluE659ybjnQKDVj)

He loves the laughter around her mouth, the smile at her eyes. She takes his hand in hers, holds it tight. Worn, weathered, she is no less precious to him than from when they first met. Her blue eyes still sparkle the same, her laughter still sounds the same. She has hair that matches his now. Hawke hums to herself as she moves around the house, books in her arms, reaching for a cinnamon roll. Fenris needs spectacles now, and they sit on the end of his nose as he reads.

His sword hangs beside her staff. Their fighting days have long since passed. She uses her magic less and less. For smaller things, no less important. Snuffing out the candles when they’re warm in bed. Heating up the bath. A cooling touch at his forehead when he has a headache. His knees ache in the morning, and his back is a constant struggle. Hawke has trouble with her hands, joints no longer what they were. The years have taken their toll.

She enjoys sitting in the garden, eyes closed and face tilted toward the sky. They’ve a bench that swings, and they spend countless hours there. Sitting and talking quietly. They still know how to make each other laugh. There’s silence as well. Hand in hand, her head on his shoulder. No words that need to be spoken. A comforting quiet, an ease between them built by the years they’ve spent together.

They’ve seen and been through so much. In their youth, before they met. The long years spent fighting to make Kirkwall a home. All the battles after. He’s glad it’s done now. He has his Hawke and he is happy. She has her Fenris and she is happy. She bends over for a kiss, passes him a new book to read. She splits the cinnamon roll in half, hands part of it to him. She curls against his side, his arm over her shoulder, and listens to him read.

He’s still hers. She’s still his. Some things will never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've all enjoyed <3   
> You can always [find me at my tumblr to chat.](http://jawsandbones.tumblr.com/) Cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello loves! Hope you enjoy! You can always find me at my [ tumblr](http://jawsandbones.tumblr.com/)


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